X-Men Men First Class WIP: Late Bloomer (30/?)
THIS IS PART OF A WIP. As mentioned before, there's lots of it. You may start from the beginning if you wish but don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapters 1-28:
Late Bloomer on
1stclass_kink
Late Bloomer on
xmen_firstkink
Chapter 29 on this journal.
Title: Late Bloomer (30/?)
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: R (overall)
Word count: 2,500 (this part)
Warnings: ...nothing special for this part.
Summary: High school AU. Erik is a mutant jock with ISSUES. Charles is a geeky transfer student and totally human... (or is he?)
What with the roasting hot weather and the end of their senior year approaching, school is a buzz of excitement for the summer. Everyone’s talking about vacation plans, college acceptances and the weird idea that they’ll soon be scattered around the country. Sitting on the playing field in the midst of a lounging, chattering group, Erik looks round at the familiar faces and tries to imagine where they’ll be six months from now. Peter and Mary-Jane in New York, Havok in Colorado, Azazel in California, at Stanford.
Emma’s going to be in California too, three thousand miles away.
For him and Charles the next year looks rosy. His place studying engineering at MIT is the best he could have hoped for and much more than his mother was expecting by the look on her face when he told her. At the same time Charles will start his post-grad work at Harvard, taking extra classes to get his experimental technique up to the same standard as his theoretical knowledge. He’ll probably get a little apartment and they’ll be able to spend lazy mornings stretched out in a real double bed rather than trying to squeeze themselves into Erik’s dorm room. It ought to be perfect.
Tony’s also headed to MIT, while Steve will be studying fine art in Maryland. Steve’s currently talking to Charles about it, treating the approaching separation with entirely misguided optimism. ‘It’s only a short flight,’ he’s explaining with a cheerful smile. ‘I could even drive it sometimes. I’ll be able to see him all the time.’
Erik glances over at Tony, who is paying Jan shamelessly extravagant compliments while Henry fumes in the background. He sends Charles a flash of mental amusement. Charles ignores him firmly. ‘That will be lovely,’ he says. ‘We’ll be glad to see you too.’
‘Yeah,’ Erik agrees after an insistent mental prompting, ‘great.’ So are you going to give him reports on what Tony’s been doing, or are you going to lie to him every time you see him for three years?
Maybe he won’t ask, Charles says hopefully. Then we can just not tell.
Erik smiles but suddenly the thought of them three years ahead jars at him uncomfortably. Their future, all planned out and waiting for them. Things might not be that way. If he wanted he could make the choice himself. It’s simple enough. He can go to MIT and study engineering. He can drink illegally at frat parties, go on road trips, make friends and spend every spare minute with Charles. He can register at a test centre in Cambridge with new doctors and a new Mike-the-nurse, and the same old Stryker visiting especially for him. He can be a good boy, give his blood and live his life.
Or he can go somewhere else. He can stop whining and crying to himself like a frightened child and start doing something about it.
It’s tantalising, the thought of quieting that little voice in his mind that’s sick of his own weakness. He could find a way to live without people watching him, no more tests or pretending. Money wouldn’t be a problem - he can walk into any locked and alarmed building as easily as he dragged Charles into the school for unsubtle and unexpectedly telepathic sex on the day of the car wash. Security cameras needn’t worry him either. Practically any machine or piece of electronics contains enough metal for him to manipulate or destroy it. Weapons are the same. He’s never tried stopping a bullet but it should be easy enough.
There are ways to find the answers he wants. He could break into places, bribe people or threaten people. In fact, a lot of it would come down to how far he could bring himself to go. Something tells him it’s a lot further than he’d like to admit.
Most of the time it seems like a fantasy, but sometimes, when those slick campaigners talk about nothing on TV or when something brings Seb unexpectedly to mind and he finds himself alone with his thoughts - at times like those he can’t stop thinking about it.
Only yesterday he found himself staring out of his window and wondering if he could kill a person who was trying to hurt him, and how he could deal with someone who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He sometimes sits and plays with circuit boards, wondering how to scope out a security system from outside a building. He tries to work out ways to practice. Ridiculously, he considers trying bank robbery as a way of working up to government facilities. And he worries what he would do if Stryker threatened to hurt his parents or Charles. He wonders if there’s anyone Stryker cares about.
‘Erik?’ Charles shifts his position and stretches himself out on the grass, settling his head in Erik’s lap and capturing one of his hands to pet and kiss. ‘I’m not going to ask what you’re thinking,’ he says, smiling his blinding smile, ‘but wouldn’t you rather think about me instead?’
Erik grins stupidly down at him, his thoughts scattering. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I guess I would.’
He couldn’t leave Charles behind.
***
It’s Sunday. These days Sunday means Erik drives Charles to the test centre and then hangs around in a nearby café doing his homework until it’s time to pick him up again. Apparently this is completely unnecessary (according to Charles), and disturbingly overprotective (according to Emma), but Erik honestly doesn’t give a shit. He wants to be nearby, just in case… just in case.
He’s leaning against the car and wishing that he’d stayed in the café longer or that it wasn’t quite so hot when Charles pushes the door open. Erik steps forwards thankfully, then pauses as another figure appears in the doorway. Stryker places a hand on Charles’s back, guiding him out, and makes some kind of laughing comment.
Erik’s half way across the car park before he’s even aware of moving.
‘Ah, Mr Lehnsherr,’ Stryker greets him affably, ‘how apposite. I’ve been hoping to have a word with you.’
Erik scowls. ‘What do you want?’ He automatically slings an arm around Charles’s shoulder, an overtly possessive gesture that’s been the cause of a couple of laughing squabbles in the past. Charles would usually throw him a flash of amusement about it. He doesn’t this time. There’s almost no mental connection all, just a whisper at the edge of Erik’s awareness. Charles presses against him, shrinking into his side, barely breathing.
Erik feels a second of bewilderment. He starts to frame a questioning thought, but a tiny, frightened tendril of Charles’s mind muffles it before it’s half formed.
Stryker oils forwards, bestowing an approving smile on Charles before turning back to Erik. ‘I have a piece of information for you. A reassurance, perhaps,’ he says, tilting his head. ‘As I recall, you have some interest in Sebastian Shaw. You were curious as to what had become of him. I believe I can now inform you with some certainty that he won’t cause problems for you again.’
There are at least a dozen cars in the car park. At this moment, Erik could squash them all flat with a flick of his finger. The power is pulsing through him. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asks. His voice doesn’t sound like his own. It’s rough and cold.
‘Now, what’s the phrase?’ Stryker’s smile stretches away from his teeth. ‘Ah, yes. Accidents happen.’
With his self-control on the edge of snapping, Erik steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. Stryker’s smirk doesn’t falter. He stands there, perfectly calm and sure of himself.
Erik pauses. There’s something not right… for a moment he’s confused, uncertain what he’s doing or why. He frowns, trying to focus. Nothing’s as clear as it ought to be.
Erik, Charles whispers. His mind reaches out, not invading Erik’s but surrounding and containing it. The anger comes flooding back with a vengeance. Stryker looks suddenly alert, glancing involuntarily over his shoulder at the test centre. He takes a quick step back. There’s fear in his eyes as they flick from Erik to Charles. It’s one of the most beautiful sights Erik has ever seen.
‘Tell me what you mean,’ Erik says again. He wraps his ability around the favourite chunk of metal he keeps in his bag and brings it spinning into his hand. He could kill this man so easily and he probably wouldn’t even feel guilty, but he doesn’t want that. He wants answers.
Stryker looks poised for flight. The metal ball spins.
Then Charles is vividly present, whimpering in panic. No, Erik, please, just take me home. I want to go home.
He sounds wrecked. It’s Stryker’s doing, whatever it is, and that only increases Erik’s desire to nail the bastard’s feet to the floor, but concern wins out. He reaches behind him. Charles grabs the hand and latches on for dear life, tugging towards the car. Erik lets himself be tugged. There’s no way in hell he’s taking his eyes off the man in front of him.
‘I’ll see you next Thursday, Mr Lehnsherr,’ Stryker says, quite steadily but with less than his usual aplomb.
‘Yeah,’ Erik tells him, ‘you will.’
***
They lie together on Erik’s bed. Erik’s tried asking and he’s tried coaxing. Now he’s just waiting, thinking gentle thoughts about the skin of Charles’s neck, covered with tiny, invisible hairs that slowly merge with soft curls, and how it feels against his lips. He thinks about Charles’s warm, solid body in his arms and the slight scratchiness of the freshly laundered pillowcase. He thinks of his mom and dad cooking dinner and how much they’d like Charles to stay, and of school on Monday, and a hundred other homely, comforting thoughts.
Eventually Charles rolls over and pushes his face into the crook of Erik’s neck. ‘I can’t go back there next week,’ he says desolately.
Erik tucks an arm around his back so they’re cocooned inside their own bodies, cheek to cheek. There’s no answer he can make to that except, You have to. ‘Tell me,’ he says instead, for perhaps the twentieth time. ‘Start at the beginning. Take it slowly.’
Charles shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘It sounds so silly,’ he says eventually. ‘It seemed like nothing at first, nearly nothing, but it wasn’t, it was all wrong. It was horrible.’
‘Slowly,’ Erik tells him, running a hand down his back and filling his mind up with comfort again.
Charles gives a weak laugh. ‘Thank you.’ He brushes up against Erik’s mind but his thoughts are too disordered and he has to resort to words. ‘Everything… it all started out normal. We were doing my test. Dr Stryker was sitting with me like he always does. It was just… this man came in to bring him a cup of coffee, and he tripped, and… and…’
Bit by bit, Erik coaxes the story out of him. Charles is right, it starts as almost nothing. As with every other test, Stryker’s mind seemed pleased and proud of Charles, mistily, with no thoughts clear enough to read, but always friendly. Always welcoming.
And then the man spilled the hot coffee over Stryker’s legs, and Stryker jumped to his feet, swearing.
‘It must have hurt him,’ Charles whispered. ‘He was furious, too, the way he was acting.’
‘Anyone would be angry,’ Erik says, confused but trying to soothe.
‘I know that!’ Charles wails. He catches his breath, purposefully calming it before he speaks again. ‘The thing is, he didn’t feel like an angry person should feel. He felt as though he was still thinking happy, friendly things, but he wasn’t, he couldn’t have been. There should have been pain.’ Another deep, shaky breath. ‘The things I was feeling from him, they weren’t his thoughts. He’s never been friendly or proud of me. It was never…’ he stumbles over his efforts to explain and presses his face tight against Erik’s shoulder.
‘It was never real,’ Erik finishes. He feels a bizarre flash of guilt, as though this is somehow his fault, as though it’s punishment for his anger at Charles’s ignorance.
Charles makes a jerky movement of assent. ‘I’ve been so stupid,’ he says. His voice starts to shake along with his breathing. ‘He’s not who I thought he was at all.’ He huddles smaller, shivering. The weirdly nightmarish image he’s projecting is a white porcelain egg, carefully painted with a smiling human mouth. It’s cracking, very slowly, as something forces its way out from the inside.
Erik tries to push it aside from both their minds. ‘Shh, baby, it’s ok,’ he says, unthinkingly resorting to the despised pet name as the only form of comfort he can offer.
‘I can’t go back.’ Charles clutches at him urgently, at once panicky and determined. ‘Erik, I can’t. He’ll be hiding behind his horrible fake thoughts. I can’t bear to see him smile at me when I know everything’s a trick. But it’s… oh god, it’s worse than that. There was someone else there, watching me.’
‘Watching you?’ Erik asks cautiously. They’re so close that every word he says shifts the bones and muscles of his jaw across Charles’s skin. The intimacy is almost too intense.
Charles gives a snuffle of slightly hysterical laughter. ‘I could feel it as soon as I thought to look. They were right there, hidden away somewhere, feeding the lies into my mind and watching what I did. Someone like me.’
‘A mutant?’ Erik says. He doesn’t really need to ask. What else could it be?
‘A telepath.’
The worst thing is that deep down he’s been expecting it. Once, not long ago, he wouldn’t have believed it, but things are different now. From the moment Stryker said we want the same things, some part of him had understood. What’s the price of peace? These are people building a world where the terrified humans can feel powerful, and the terrifying mutants can seem harmless enough that they needn’t be harmed in turn. Isn’t that what they all want? It was one of their own, covering for Stryker and watching Charles. Maybe watching all of them. And there will be others. How many telepaths and healers, shape shifters and fire throwers have heard the spiel about valuable work?
‘So in the car park…’ There’s the memory of Stryker’s face, smugness turning to fear, and Charles’s strange presence. ‘Fuck, what did you do back there?’
‘Shielded you.’ Charles pulls away and sits up, taking yet another deep breath and giving Erik the tiniest of smiles. ‘That telepath’s sneaky, but I’m stronger. They don’t get to touch you.’ While Erik’s still glaring at him in astonished bafflement, his face slips back into a more serious expression. It’s not panicky any more, just sad. ‘You’re not surprised by any of this, are you? It’s so strange, I tell you this awful thing, and you already knew. But what’s it all for? What is it that they need to hide?’
Dead children, Erik thinks. Easy answers. Manipulation. Worthwhile ends, and unthinkable, unforgivable means.
Contingency plans.
Charles catches some of it. Where’s Seb? his mind echoes back. Then, aloud, his eyes wide and wondering, ‘We’re so strong, Erik. What happens when we get too strong?’
On to Chapter 31!
Chapters 1-28:
Late Bloomer on
1stclass_kink
Late Bloomer on
xmen_firstkink
Chapter 29 on this journal.
Title: Late Bloomer (30/?)
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: R (overall)
Word count: 2,500 (this part)
Warnings: ...nothing special for this part.
Summary: High school AU. Erik is a mutant jock with ISSUES. Charles is a geeky transfer student and totally human... (or is he?)
What with the roasting hot weather and the end of their senior year approaching, school is a buzz of excitement for the summer. Everyone’s talking about vacation plans, college acceptances and the weird idea that they’ll soon be scattered around the country. Sitting on the playing field in the midst of a lounging, chattering group, Erik looks round at the familiar faces and tries to imagine where they’ll be six months from now. Peter and Mary-Jane in New York, Havok in Colorado, Azazel in California, at Stanford.
Emma’s going to be in California too, three thousand miles away.
For him and Charles the next year looks rosy. His place studying engineering at MIT is the best he could have hoped for and much more than his mother was expecting by the look on her face when he told her. At the same time Charles will start his post-grad work at Harvard, taking extra classes to get his experimental technique up to the same standard as his theoretical knowledge. He’ll probably get a little apartment and they’ll be able to spend lazy mornings stretched out in a real double bed rather than trying to squeeze themselves into Erik’s dorm room. It ought to be perfect.
Tony’s also headed to MIT, while Steve will be studying fine art in Maryland. Steve’s currently talking to Charles about it, treating the approaching separation with entirely misguided optimism. ‘It’s only a short flight,’ he’s explaining with a cheerful smile. ‘I could even drive it sometimes. I’ll be able to see him all the time.’
Erik glances over at Tony, who is paying Jan shamelessly extravagant compliments while Henry fumes in the background. He sends Charles a flash of mental amusement. Charles ignores him firmly. ‘That will be lovely,’ he says. ‘We’ll be glad to see you too.’
‘Yeah,’ Erik agrees after an insistent mental prompting, ‘great.’ So are you going to give him reports on what Tony’s been doing, or are you going to lie to him every time you see him for three years?
Maybe he won’t ask, Charles says hopefully. Then we can just not tell.
Erik smiles but suddenly the thought of them three years ahead jars at him uncomfortably. Their future, all planned out and waiting for them. Things might not be that way. If he wanted he could make the choice himself. It’s simple enough. He can go to MIT and study engineering. He can drink illegally at frat parties, go on road trips, make friends and spend every spare minute with Charles. He can register at a test centre in Cambridge with new doctors and a new Mike-the-nurse, and the same old Stryker visiting especially for him. He can be a good boy, give his blood and live his life.
Or he can go somewhere else. He can stop whining and crying to himself like a frightened child and start doing something about it.
It’s tantalising, the thought of quieting that little voice in his mind that’s sick of his own weakness. He could find a way to live without people watching him, no more tests or pretending. Money wouldn’t be a problem - he can walk into any locked and alarmed building as easily as he dragged Charles into the school for unsubtle and unexpectedly telepathic sex on the day of the car wash. Security cameras needn’t worry him either. Practically any machine or piece of electronics contains enough metal for him to manipulate or destroy it. Weapons are the same. He’s never tried stopping a bullet but it should be easy enough.
There are ways to find the answers he wants. He could break into places, bribe people or threaten people. In fact, a lot of it would come down to how far he could bring himself to go. Something tells him it’s a lot further than he’d like to admit.
Most of the time it seems like a fantasy, but sometimes, when those slick campaigners talk about nothing on TV or when something brings Seb unexpectedly to mind and he finds himself alone with his thoughts - at times like those he can’t stop thinking about it.
Only yesterday he found himself staring out of his window and wondering if he could kill a person who was trying to hurt him, and how he could deal with someone who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He sometimes sits and plays with circuit boards, wondering how to scope out a security system from outside a building. He tries to work out ways to practice. Ridiculously, he considers trying bank robbery as a way of working up to government facilities. And he worries what he would do if Stryker threatened to hurt his parents or Charles. He wonders if there’s anyone Stryker cares about.
‘Erik?’ Charles shifts his position and stretches himself out on the grass, settling his head in Erik’s lap and capturing one of his hands to pet and kiss. ‘I’m not going to ask what you’re thinking,’ he says, smiling his blinding smile, ‘but wouldn’t you rather think about me instead?’
Erik grins stupidly down at him, his thoughts scattering. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I guess I would.’
He couldn’t leave Charles behind.
***
It’s Sunday. These days Sunday means Erik drives Charles to the test centre and then hangs around in a nearby café doing his homework until it’s time to pick him up again. Apparently this is completely unnecessary (according to Charles), and disturbingly overprotective (according to Emma), but Erik honestly doesn’t give a shit. He wants to be nearby, just in case… just in case.
He’s leaning against the car and wishing that he’d stayed in the café longer or that it wasn’t quite so hot when Charles pushes the door open. Erik steps forwards thankfully, then pauses as another figure appears in the doorway. Stryker places a hand on Charles’s back, guiding him out, and makes some kind of laughing comment.
Erik’s half way across the car park before he’s even aware of moving.
‘Ah, Mr Lehnsherr,’ Stryker greets him affably, ‘how apposite. I’ve been hoping to have a word with you.’
Erik scowls. ‘What do you want?’ He automatically slings an arm around Charles’s shoulder, an overtly possessive gesture that’s been the cause of a couple of laughing squabbles in the past. Charles would usually throw him a flash of amusement about it. He doesn’t this time. There’s almost no mental connection all, just a whisper at the edge of Erik’s awareness. Charles presses against him, shrinking into his side, barely breathing.
Erik feels a second of bewilderment. He starts to frame a questioning thought, but a tiny, frightened tendril of Charles’s mind muffles it before it’s half formed.
Stryker oils forwards, bestowing an approving smile on Charles before turning back to Erik. ‘I have a piece of information for you. A reassurance, perhaps,’ he says, tilting his head. ‘As I recall, you have some interest in Sebastian Shaw. You were curious as to what had become of him. I believe I can now inform you with some certainty that he won’t cause problems for you again.’
There are at least a dozen cars in the car park. At this moment, Erik could squash them all flat with a flick of his finger. The power is pulsing through him. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asks. His voice doesn’t sound like his own. It’s rough and cold.
‘Now, what’s the phrase?’ Stryker’s smile stretches away from his teeth. ‘Ah, yes. Accidents happen.’
With his self-control on the edge of snapping, Erik steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. Stryker’s smirk doesn’t falter. He stands there, perfectly calm and sure of himself.
Erik pauses. There’s something not right… for a moment he’s confused, uncertain what he’s doing or why. He frowns, trying to focus. Nothing’s as clear as it ought to be.
Erik, Charles whispers. His mind reaches out, not invading Erik’s but surrounding and containing it. The anger comes flooding back with a vengeance. Stryker looks suddenly alert, glancing involuntarily over his shoulder at the test centre. He takes a quick step back. There’s fear in his eyes as they flick from Erik to Charles. It’s one of the most beautiful sights Erik has ever seen.
‘Tell me what you mean,’ Erik says again. He wraps his ability around the favourite chunk of metal he keeps in his bag and brings it spinning into his hand. He could kill this man so easily and he probably wouldn’t even feel guilty, but he doesn’t want that. He wants answers.
Stryker looks poised for flight. The metal ball spins.
Then Charles is vividly present, whimpering in panic. No, Erik, please, just take me home. I want to go home.
He sounds wrecked. It’s Stryker’s doing, whatever it is, and that only increases Erik’s desire to nail the bastard’s feet to the floor, but concern wins out. He reaches behind him. Charles grabs the hand and latches on for dear life, tugging towards the car. Erik lets himself be tugged. There’s no way in hell he’s taking his eyes off the man in front of him.
‘I’ll see you next Thursday, Mr Lehnsherr,’ Stryker says, quite steadily but with less than his usual aplomb.
‘Yeah,’ Erik tells him, ‘you will.’
***
They lie together on Erik’s bed. Erik’s tried asking and he’s tried coaxing. Now he’s just waiting, thinking gentle thoughts about the skin of Charles’s neck, covered with tiny, invisible hairs that slowly merge with soft curls, and how it feels against his lips. He thinks about Charles’s warm, solid body in his arms and the slight scratchiness of the freshly laundered pillowcase. He thinks of his mom and dad cooking dinner and how much they’d like Charles to stay, and of school on Monday, and a hundred other homely, comforting thoughts.
Eventually Charles rolls over and pushes his face into the crook of Erik’s neck. ‘I can’t go back there next week,’ he says desolately.
Erik tucks an arm around his back so they’re cocooned inside their own bodies, cheek to cheek. There’s no answer he can make to that except, You have to. ‘Tell me,’ he says instead, for perhaps the twentieth time. ‘Start at the beginning. Take it slowly.’
Charles shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘It sounds so silly,’ he says eventually. ‘It seemed like nothing at first, nearly nothing, but it wasn’t, it was all wrong. It was horrible.’
‘Slowly,’ Erik tells him, running a hand down his back and filling his mind up with comfort again.
Charles gives a weak laugh. ‘Thank you.’ He brushes up against Erik’s mind but his thoughts are too disordered and he has to resort to words. ‘Everything… it all started out normal. We were doing my test. Dr Stryker was sitting with me like he always does. It was just… this man came in to bring him a cup of coffee, and he tripped, and… and…’
Bit by bit, Erik coaxes the story out of him. Charles is right, it starts as almost nothing. As with every other test, Stryker’s mind seemed pleased and proud of Charles, mistily, with no thoughts clear enough to read, but always friendly. Always welcoming.
And then the man spilled the hot coffee over Stryker’s legs, and Stryker jumped to his feet, swearing.
‘It must have hurt him,’ Charles whispered. ‘He was furious, too, the way he was acting.’
‘Anyone would be angry,’ Erik says, confused but trying to soothe.
‘I know that!’ Charles wails. He catches his breath, purposefully calming it before he speaks again. ‘The thing is, he didn’t feel like an angry person should feel. He felt as though he was still thinking happy, friendly things, but he wasn’t, he couldn’t have been. There should have been pain.’ Another deep, shaky breath. ‘The things I was feeling from him, they weren’t his thoughts. He’s never been friendly or proud of me. It was never…’ he stumbles over his efforts to explain and presses his face tight against Erik’s shoulder.
‘It was never real,’ Erik finishes. He feels a bizarre flash of guilt, as though this is somehow his fault, as though it’s punishment for his anger at Charles’s ignorance.
Charles makes a jerky movement of assent. ‘I’ve been so stupid,’ he says. His voice starts to shake along with his breathing. ‘He’s not who I thought he was at all.’ He huddles smaller, shivering. The weirdly nightmarish image he’s projecting is a white porcelain egg, carefully painted with a smiling human mouth. It’s cracking, very slowly, as something forces its way out from the inside.
Erik tries to push it aside from both their minds. ‘Shh, baby, it’s ok,’ he says, unthinkingly resorting to the despised pet name as the only form of comfort he can offer.
‘I can’t go back.’ Charles clutches at him urgently, at once panicky and determined. ‘Erik, I can’t. He’ll be hiding behind his horrible fake thoughts. I can’t bear to see him smile at me when I know everything’s a trick. But it’s… oh god, it’s worse than that. There was someone else there, watching me.’
‘Watching you?’ Erik asks cautiously. They’re so close that every word he says shifts the bones and muscles of his jaw across Charles’s skin. The intimacy is almost too intense.
Charles gives a snuffle of slightly hysterical laughter. ‘I could feel it as soon as I thought to look. They were right there, hidden away somewhere, feeding the lies into my mind and watching what I did. Someone like me.’
‘A mutant?’ Erik says. He doesn’t really need to ask. What else could it be?
‘A telepath.’
The worst thing is that deep down he’s been expecting it. Once, not long ago, he wouldn’t have believed it, but things are different now. From the moment Stryker said we want the same things, some part of him had understood. What’s the price of peace? These are people building a world where the terrified humans can feel powerful, and the terrifying mutants can seem harmless enough that they needn’t be harmed in turn. Isn’t that what they all want? It was one of their own, covering for Stryker and watching Charles. Maybe watching all of them. And there will be others. How many telepaths and healers, shape shifters and fire throwers have heard the spiel about valuable work?
‘So in the car park…’ There’s the memory of Stryker’s face, smugness turning to fear, and Charles’s strange presence. ‘Fuck, what did you do back there?’
‘Shielded you.’ Charles pulls away and sits up, taking yet another deep breath and giving Erik the tiniest of smiles. ‘That telepath’s sneaky, but I’m stronger. They don’t get to touch you.’ While Erik’s still glaring at him in astonished bafflement, his face slips back into a more serious expression. It’s not panicky any more, just sad. ‘You’re not surprised by any of this, are you? It’s so strange, I tell you this awful thing, and you already knew. But what’s it all for? What is it that they need to hide?’
Dead children, Erik thinks. Easy answers. Manipulation. Worthwhile ends, and unthinkable, unforgivable means.
Contingency plans.
Charles catches some of it. Where’s Seb? his mind echoes back. Then, aloud, his eyes wide and wondering, ‘We’re so strong, Erik. What happens when we get too strong?’
On to Chapter 31!